Count of Three
by CSIvHP11
Summary: "There is nothing left for us." She let out a shaky breath. "I can't go back to that prison, Myka. I would rather end my life on my own terms." Imagine Person A of your OTP having to kill Person B because of duty. Bering and Wells.


_Imagine Person A of your OTP having to kill Person B because of duty._

**Warehouse 13  
Bering and Wells  
Rates: T**

"We have to do it, Myka."

"I can't, I just can't. What if you're wrong? What if it doesn't fix it?"

"It has to." Helena stepped closer to Myka, and cupped her cheek. "I don't want to think about the possibility that this is reality. It can't be real. I won't allow it to be real."

"But, what if it is real? Helena, if it's real, there's no coming back."

"Tell me, darling, if this is real, would you really want to come back?"

Myka's head tilted back slightly as she fought back a sob. She closed her eyes. Images flashed through her mind.

_Watching on the security feed as Leena was bound and thrown into a van. Finding her body months later, locked in a prison cell._

_Finding Helena locked up a few cells down, barely clinging to life herself._

_Not noticing Claudia's withdrawal into herself until it was too late and she just vanished one night._

_Artie going off to find her, and never coming back._

_Pete sacrificing himself to give her and Helena time to escape. Watching the bullets rip through his body._

She opened her eyes and stared into the brown ones in front of her.

"I don't want this to be real, Helena, I really don't," she whispered. "But, how could an artifact do all this?"

"You know of Artie's theory, with the first 3D glasses and the creation of this alternate dimension. I can't explain why, but I am sure he was correct."

Myka turned her head slightly to look at what used to be DC. She could just make out the movement of their adversaries. They didn't have long to decide.

"But what if he wasn't right?"

"Then what do we have to live for? There is nothing left for us." She let out a shaky breath. "I can't go back to that prison, Myka. I would rather end my life on my own terms."

Myka looked back at her. Tears had started to form in her eyes.

Helena moved closer to her. Their bodies were flush, and they could feel each movement the other made. She moved her hand from Myka's cheek to her neck, and pulled her down for a kiss.

She had intended for it to be quick, but the other woman had her own plans. Myka wrapped her arms around Helena, and held her tightly. They could feel the others heartbeat speed up as their lips moved together.

When they finally pulled away, tears were falling from both pairs of eyes.

Helena moved back into Myka. Instead of kissing her, however, she rested her head on Myka's shoulder, and pushed her face into the juncture of her shoulder and neck. Myka pressed her face into Helena's hair.

"If we can take ourselves out of this world, we will return to our world. None of this would have ever happened. They are alive in our world. Everyone is still alive in our world," Helena whispered after a few moments.

Myka squeezed her eyes closed and took a deep breath. "Okay," she breathed out. "But quickly."

Helena lifted her head, lightly kissed Myka, and pulled back. They started to take their outer layers off. Weapons and jackets piled on the floor until they were left in their trousers, shoes and shirts. They both looked at the pile in amazement for a moment. They had never really paid attention to how much stuff they had started to carry on them.

Once the moment passed, Myka stepped back into Helena's personal space. Her eyes locked with Helena's, while her hands started to work at the buttons of Helena's shirt, opening from the top of the shirt to the bottom.

When they were all unfastened, she slid her finger along the gap between the halves. Helena shivered beneath her touch. Myka's fingers spread out along the smooth skin, somehow as pale as it had been before. The shirt parted as her hands moved up Helena's torso. Her fingers circled a spot over Helena's heart.

"We'll have to get the blades between our ribs," she muttered. "And we'll have to put enough force into it to get through the muscle layer."

"I know, darling," Helena whispered. Her hands settled on Myka's hips, her fingers lightly pressing on the skin that appeared in the gap between jeans and shirt. Her hands started to rise, taking the shirt with them.

"It'll hurt."

"Obviously." She fingered the same spot on Myka's chest. "But not for long, and then we will be back home."

She glanced down at Myka's body, tan and toned from their recent lifestyle. A jagged scar spanned across her hip from a fight months ago.

"You're gorgeous," she mumbled.

Myka let out a strangled laugh. Helena raised an eyebrow. Myka kissed her. "I love you," she said against Helena's lips.

"As I love you," Helena replied.

The stood there for a moment, lips millimeters apart, hands resting over the others heart. The sound of gunfire in the distance broke the silence. They moved their hands at the same time, reaching around the other to the knives they kept tucked in the back of their pants.

"Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow," Helena whispered.

"_Romeo and Juliet, _really?" Myka chuckled.

"Two lovers. Battles to the death. Tragic ending. I believe it fits quite well."

"I guess it does."

The gunfire grew closer.

"We don't have much longer, I'm afraid. Are you ready?"

"No, but I don't think I'll ever be ready for this."

"Nor I, but we have to go through with this. Promise me you will go through with it."

"How is it so easy for you?"

"It's not, but I know this is the effect of an artifact, Myka, and we have to trust in that."

Myka nodded. The gunfire sounded again.

"We have to do this," Helena whispered.

They raised the knives and placed them, flat, against each other's chest.

"On the count of three," Myka said.

Helena leaned in for one last kiss.

"Righty-oh, then."

Their grips on the knives tightened.

"One."

They raised the knives so they were poised to slip through their ribs.

"Two."

The tips of the blades started to slide into the skin. Blood started welling up.

Helena folded in on herself, the knife falling to the ground.

"I can't," she gasped. "I can't take your life."

Myka readily dropped the knife in her hand, and wrapped her arms around Helena. Myka held Helena close, barely able to keep herself from breaking down as well. Her mind briefly flashed back to that day in Yellowstone all those years ago, but the thought didn't stay long.

"We'll figure something else out," she whispered into Helena's hair.

The gunfire would have been close enough to make them jump, had either of them survived the bullet that tore through both of their bodies.

.

.

.

_"Myka? HG? Hey, I think they're waking up!"_

**I own nothing  
Seriously, though, did any of you really think I would actually kill them? Come on now.**


End file.
